A Prayer for the Damned

Fidelma shook her head immediately. ‘But Searc was in love with the young man named Senach of Cill Ria.’

‘Just so. But there were stories that Muirchertach was attracted to her. I understand that she initially went to live at his fortress at Durlas to be companion to her sister Aíbnat.’

‘Before she met Senach?’

‘I don’t know. However, there is certainly no question that the attraction was mutual. She rejected Muirchertach’s advances. At least, that is what I have heard.’

Fidelma looked at the leaping flames in the fire for a few moments. ‘Are you saying that Muirchertach tried to seduce Aíbnat’s sister?’

Abbot Laisran’s chubby face was not exactly serious. ‘It would not be the first time that such a thing has happened. Whether of the nobility or the Faith, men are often led by their desires. Myself now, I am too old to desire anything more than a good jug of wine, a nicely cooked repast and perhaps the entertainment of a good horse race.’

Fidelma broke into a smile. ‘I know your faults only too well, Laisran. You should add to them the fascination of the gaming board.’

‘Ah.’ The abbot nodded reflectively. ‘I had not forgotten. I fail to mention that because I have learned never to challenge you to bran-dubh or fidchell, either board game would spell disaster for me against one of your wit.’

Fidelma suddenly frowned again. ‘Are you saying that Muirchertach had a reputation with women and that his wife Aíbnat knew about it?’

‘It is what I have heard. I cannot bear witness to it.’

‘But where did you hear this? Durrow is a long way from Muirchertach’s fortress at Durlas.’

‘As Virgil said: fama malum quo non aliud velocius ullum,’ Laisran replied with a wink.

‘It is true that nothing travels faster than scandal,’ Fidelma agreed, ‘but one has to separate mere rumour and mischief-making.’

‘Often there is truth in rumour,’ the abbot replied. ‘Tales told from different sources may be treated with less suspicion than a tale told by a single source. There were several religious arriving at Durrow and each told a similar tale.’

Fidelma grimaced disapprovingly. ‘For Virgil I give you Horace — say nothing in case what you say hurt another or bring down on us an unfavourable act of the gods.’

The abbot smiled broadly. ‘You cannot believe that,’ he rebuked humorously. ‘Otherwise, where would you be? You could not function if people obeyed the favete linguis that Horace suggested we obey. Without gossip, without speculation, without people talking to you, your investigations would hardly lead anywhere.’

Fidelma thought for a moment and shrugged. ‘I agree that there is truth in that, Laisran. I suppose the secret is knowing where to look for the nuggets of truth among the silt of hearsay, calumny and defamation.’

‘I am afraid that is your task in life, Fidelma. You chose your profession.’

‘So,’ Fidelma returned to a more practical issue, ‘these rumours that religious wanderers from Connacht brought to you at Durrow had a consistency? They spoke of Muirchertach as a libertine, profligate in his behaviour to women?’

‘They did.’

‘Even in his behaviour to Searc, the sister of his wife Aíbnat?’

‘It is so.’

‘Even if this were just scandal without substantiation, something is strange,’ she said with a shake of her head. Then she rose to her feet. Abbot Laisran looked up with a questioning expression.

‘Have I been of help?’

‘I think so,’ she replied, after a moment’s thought. ‘At least you have prompted an interesting question in my mind. Unfortunately, there are many pieces that seem to form patterns but I am not sure whether they are the right patterns. I don’t think, as yet, that I have all the pieces.’

‘With both Ultán and Muirchertach dead, is there any reason to seek any more pieces?’ queried Abbot Laisran. ‘After all,’ he waved a hand, an odd little gesture as though unsure of himself, ‘it does make a resolution to the matter, doesn’t it? Ultán killed and no great loss to anyone. Muirchertach was blamed and now Muirchertach dead, perhaps in revenge.’

‘But who killed Muirchertach?’ demanded Fidelma.

‘Does it serve anyone to find out?’

‘It serves justice and that is what we are about or we are about nothing at all in life.’

‘I have heard that one learned brehon would prefer not to implicate anyone from Laigin,’ he said softly. Fidelma gazed sharply at him. ‘It is just a thought that I heard expressed.’

‘I think I know where that thought came from. Sometimes I forget that the abbey of Durrow lies across the border in the kingdom of Laigin.’

‘You have a sharp mind, Fidelma,’ sighed Abbot Laisran. ‘I always thought that you were a great lawyer.’

‘When you see Brehon Ninnid of Laigin you might say that you heard that I was as determined to track down whoever killed Muirchertach as I was to clear Muirchertach Nár’s name of the murder of Abbot Ultán by discovering who really killed him.’

‘I shall tell Brehon Ninnid. Perhaps, if I were looking for Muirchertach’s killer, I would be thinking of the type of man that Muirchertach Nár was. If the rumours that he was a libertine are true, who might be the one to suffer from his behaviour?’

‘Aíbnat?’ Fidelma grimaced dismissively. ‘I should not think that she would care one way or another.’

‘Yet with her own sister?’

Fidelma thought a moment and then inclined her head, turning for the door. ‘I will bear in mind what you say, Laisran.’

Fidelma had just finished telling Eadulf the gist of her conversation with Laisran when there was a knocking on their chamber door. Muirgen the nurse hurried across the chamber to open the door, making a disapproving noise as she did so, glancing in young Alchú’s crib as she passed by to ensure that he had not been disturbed. It was Caol, the commander of the guard, on the threshold, looking agitated. He glanced past Muirgen and caught site of Fidelma.

‘Lady, a thousand apologies, but it is Fergus Fanat. .’ he called.

Fidelma rose and hastened to the door to join him, dismissing Muirgen with a motion of her head.

‘What about Fergus Fanat?’ she asked softly.

‘He has been attacked.’

Eadulf now joined them.

‘Is he dead?’ he asked.

Caol shook his head. ‘But he is barely alive.’

‘Where is he?’

‘He has been taken down to Brother Conchobhar’s apothecary.’

‘Where did the attack take place?’ asked Fidelma, reaching for a cloak, for the hour was nearly midnight and the night was chilly.

‘Outside the guest chambers given over to Blathmac, the king of Ulaidh, and his attendants.’

‘Who was responsible?’ demanded Eadulf, as, by common consent, they left Muirgen looking after the still sleeping baby, and followed Caol into the corridor.

‘No one knows.’

‘Were there no witnesses?’

Caol shook his head. ‘None so far as is known.’

‘Tell us what you do know, Caol,’ said Fidelma.

‘The servant of Blathmac, the king of Ulaidh, came to find me a short time ago. He told me that Fergus